the map is shrinking
still, all tremble, we plot
the points that remain
*
in the rush,
in the roar, in the rumble
the silence after
*
I hate white
this is no confession
I hate it
*
the body, crushed,
lungs, crushed, shape of a man
dug up
*
not my nephew,
not my blood, still
these tears
*
howl turns to yelp
turns to gurgle turns
to snow catching sun
*
where in my body
is there white? how
might I forgive it
*
out from under,
this struggle, we take turns,
sometimes it’s personal
*
sometimes the white says
don’t come near me, sometimes it sings
your name
*
I did not read
the obituary, only your letter
black scratch on white
*
blank page, blank page,
white cloud, white skull, white slope
another blank page